Chasing Kites
by Em.Celle
Summary: Regina has more money than she knows what to do with. Emma has more problems than she can manage. Regina wants a baby. Emma needs money. This, this is a mutually beneficial arrangement. At least that's the plan. But everyone knows things don't always go according to plan.
1. Chapter 1

_**Title;Chasing Kites.**_

 _ **Pairing; Emma/Regina.**_

 _ **Prolougue Part 1-**_

...

"Momma." A small hand lands on her shoulder and Emma sinks even further into the bed. "Momma."

"Five more minutes." She mumbles.

"But then I'll be late." The voice whines and she groans.

Her son is nothing if not stubborn. He's not going to leave her be until she gets up and does what he wants.

"Fine. I'm up."

"Your eyes are _still_ closed." He dead pans and almost by their own accord, her lips twitch into a small smile and she opens her eyes slowly. Squinting when day light almost fucking blinds her.

God, she hates mornings.

She turns around to escape the burn of the sun light and meets big, green, impatient eyes. She fully smiles now. "Hey buddy." Her voice is edged with sleep and a little exhaustion. She hardly slept last night. Or was it this morning? Whatever, point is, she hasn't had enough sleep.

"I'm gonna be late." He grumbles again. She chuckles and leans down to kiss his forehead.

"I'm up now. Let me just go freshen up then we'll go make you some breakfast, yeah?"

He nods, finally smiling.

It's a lesson in improvising, this making breakfast business.

Her fridge has the saddest situation going on and and by saddest situation I mean _emptiness_ and she's pretty certain the milk in there has gone bad by now.

She puts water in Henry's cereal because he hates it dry and she can't look him in the eye as he eats. Guilt gnaws somewhere deep inside her and it's awful and unforgiving.

"We'll go shopping sometime this afternoon, okay?" It sounds like an excuse. He nods at her and shoves more cereal in his mouth. She's just about to tell him one of her awful jokes that never fail to make him laugh when there's a knock on the door. She kisses his mop of brown hair as she goes to answer it.

Wishing she'd just stayed inside when she sees who's at the other side of the door.

"Emma." He says in that way he always does when he's annoyed at her. Which is more often than not honestly.

"Hey Grey." She smiles widely at him. "Morning."

"Don't 'morning' me right now. It's the _fifteenth."_

"Really?" She leans on the door frame, feigning complete obliviousness. "I had _no_ idea. Henry and I used our calender to-"

"Emma."

She sighs, dropping all pretenses. "I'm going to get it to you."

"When?" He asks using more of his hands than his voice. "You owe me _three_ fucking months worth of rent."

"I know, I know." She rubs the back of her neck more to avoid his eyes than anything. She knows she's not being fair to him. He's not the best of landlords. He's actually pretty shit at getting things fixed but he isn't a bad guy. In his own way, he's understanding and he's been more linient with her than most people would under the circumstances. "I'll get you all of it by the end of the month."

"That's what you said _last_ month. And the month before that and the one before that one."

"I promise this time."

"You _promised_ the other two times too."

"Momma! I'm really going to be late now."

She closes the door a bit to look back inside, "just a moment, baby." She yells then opens the door fully again and fixes Grey with a pleading look. Not saying anything because she doesn't know what else to say.

He sighs. "This is the last time Emma. I'm serious."

"Thank you. Thank you. I'll get it to you this time, promise."

He just fixes her one last look and walks away. She closes the door and leans on it, closing her eyes. She hasn't even been awake for two hours and already her day is pure shit.

"Momma, is everything okay?"

She opens her eyes and finds Henry standing there, his bag on his shoulder and a worried look in his eyes. That feeling of guilt comes back a hundred fold. She forces a smile. "Of course it is. Come on," she opens the door, "we don't want you being late for school, do we now?

...

At sixteen, Emma had never been in love, not once.

There was a boy when she was thirteen who she thought she loved because he sneaked into the group home sometimes and brought her doughnuts. But then they dated for two weeks and he started slacking on the doughnuts and she grew tired of his company and realized it's the doughnuts she loved, not him.

So at sixteen, Emma was pretty naive when it came to love.

That's why when she meets Neal, she falls in love hard and fast. It's months after she left the home. She has been harrased, almost arrested, rained on, slept hungry about four nights in a row and living alone is not panning out to be the amazing adventure she thought it would be.

Her last resort is stealing a car and driving as far away as she possibly can and maybe finding her luck somewhere else.

She does steal a car. And find a boy in a car. And fall in love with said boy practically minutes after meeting him.

He's protective and funny and he always tastes like doughnuts when he kisses her no matter what time of day it is.

At sixteen, Emma Swan thinks she's never going to love anyone as much as she does this boy.

/

At eighteen, Emma Swan is scared.

She hasn't seen her period in three months and she might not have finished high school, but even she knows what _that_ means.

She sneaks out of the motel they're staying in somewhere around midnight and walks to the drug store they saw on their way here. She would have taken the bug, but it needs to be serviced and the tank is empty.

The green haired girl chewing gum at the register lazily points out where the pregnancy tests are when Emma asks and she looks at her with something that too much resembles pity when Emma asks if she can use their restroom.

She stands with her eyes closed for almost ten minutes after she takes the test, praying to a god she stopped believing in when she was eight to _please_ not let this happen.

He either does not know she exists or he doesn't care because it does happen and she doesn't even have the energy to cry when she sees it.

It takes her two days to tell Neal and for a moment, she thinks he's angry. His fork full is dangling somewhere near his mouth and his eyes seem to be trying to catch her in a lie. But she just stares and tries acting like she's not as scared as she actually is.

Then after what seems like a lifetime. He smiles and gets up and gives her a hug that lifts her out of the chair and spins her around, "we're going to be a family!" He yells, happiness coating his voice.

Emma laughs and cries and wonders what she was so scared of.

/

That question is answered the next morning when she wakes up all alone in the motel room. It's not scary at first. Neal likes going for runs. Or maybe he went to get them coffee.

She takes a shower and when she's looking at herself in the mirror, her hand rests on her stomach.

 _We're going to be a family._

Neal's absence only starts worrying her after an hour and she peeps out the window every five minutes and begs her heart to settle when she sees the bug there still. And Neal's bag is still here.

She has nothing to worry about.

Except she _does._

Because the clothes in that bag, they're hers, not Neals. He must have swicthed them as she slept. And the attendant at the front desk says he left in a hurry with a bag around his shoulders and said she'll cover the bill. That he got an urgent call.

This time, she _does_ have the energy to cry.

/

It takes two days for her to snap out of it. And it isn't even on her own accord. The receptionist knocks on her door at around nine on morning. She either has to pay or get in trouble.

She doesn't mean to be rude, she says, but Emma owes her a shit load of money.

Emma wipes her nose with the back of her hand and looks around with eyes that hurt from crying too much. Her eyes land on the necklace that Neal bought -stole- for her. She grabs that, then grabs more then asks the girl where she can sell them.

The money she gets covers her bills and gets the bug serviced and she realises other than the baby in her stomach, this car is all that Neal left her.

/

The bug becomes her home.

She doesn't have money for hotels.

She hardly has enough to eat and buy baby stuff and make enough to go to clinics to -at the very least- make sure there's still _something_ inside there.

The first time it kicks, she's seated inside the bug, her foot on the dashboard, eating a burger that she knows is unhealthy but still eats anyway.

It kinda feels like a tiny thing prodding at her stomach and she ignores it until it hits again and again and she places her hand on her belly, feeling it hit like some sort of irregular heart beat. Billy Joel playing on the radio and from nowhere, she starts crying.

And for the first time in a long time, inside that car, she's not so angry she ever met Neal.

/

She drives herself to the hospital on the day of Henry's birth. She changes clothes behind some bush and uses the dirty one to wipe the fluids off the bug's seat before carrying the bag she's had packed for months and walking into the hospital.

She gives birth barely three hours later and she leaves that very same night.

She and her small, pink, _ridiculously perfect_ son spend the first night inside that car and he's so small and so fragile and it's so cold, she thinks he'll die.

He doesn't though, he just cries and cries until she plays Billy Joel then he calms down and sleeps.

/

They spend Henry's third birthday inside the bug. Just the two of them in the backseat, Henry seated on Emma's lap, his little party hat prickling her chin. A cupcake between Emma's hands and Henry's smilling face beaming at it, waiting for Emma to finish their special birthday song so he could blow the candle.

Later that evening, he sits with her on the bonnet as they listen to Piano Man and Henry singing the lyrics wrong making Emma's heart feel a little too large for her chest and in that moment, it's just her Henry and their yellow bug.

And that's okay with her.

...

That's why she feels like she's selling a part of her as she hands over the keys to the bug and receives money that hardly seems enough.

The man who's buying it says he's doing her an actual favour with that price. It's olden, she has zero papers for it. It's _old._

It'll cost him more than it's worth. He says. Emma wants to ask then w _hy_ is he buying it then.

But then she remembers Henry eating cereal with fucking _water_. this morning. And Grey threatening to evict her. And the fact that Henry hardly has anything to wear this coming winter and the fact that he's gotten too good at pretending his clothes don't smell like goodwill.

She thinks of her son and how she hasn't ever given him enough although he's her whole entire world and she places the keys in his hands.

And tries not to cry as she sees him head away in her car.

...

Henry's eyes are wide and unbelieving when Emma tells him he can pick anything he wants from the shelves and it doesn't make Emma feel as proud as she thought it would.

It just makes her realise, again, how much she's faliling him.

So she turns a blind eye as he fills their trolley with candy he's never had before and she deals with the painful tag in her heart everytime he asks. "Can we afford all these?"

He's eight, she thinks, he shouldn't worry about such things, he's _eight._

She makes his favourite food as he sits on the counter, eating chips and telling her about his day. Which mostly just involves his lessons and the books he read. Other kids don't feature in there.

They never do.

They do the dishes together and dance along to Billy's songs, even the undancable ones and it's only when she puts him in bed that he asks.

"Momma, where's Bug?"

She smiles sadly and tucks him even tigher before kissing his forehead. "He has a new home now, buddy."

"Oh."

He doesn't seem so pleased about it, but he had a good day today. And his stomach is full and there's a bag full of new clothes for him and Grey won't be knocking on their door until the end of the month. And that's all that matters to Emma right now.

...

Emma decides, rather abruptly really, that they're _not_ going back to what life was before. She knows she's already spread thin between working in two diners and making sure she at the very least sees her son everyday and has conversations with him that consist of more than 'morning' and 'goodnight'. But she decides that she can do even more.

She can find late night jobs at a bar or something and hire a sitter.

She's doing a lot, she knows, but she can do _more._

So in between breaks she steals the manager's news papers and goes through job ads and saves numbers and makes calls. She casually asks around if her friends have heard of any openings and she just tries and tries and tries some more.

"You quiting us, Swan?"

A coworker asks and she drops her pen, rubbing her eyes from squinting too much.

"What? No. I'm just trying to find something else to do, you can't have to much money you know?" She jokes and he laughs, sliding into the booth and pulling one paper in an effort to help her look.

"So what exactly are you looking for."

"Anything." She picks the pen again. She didn't graduate high school. She has no work expirience other than diners and that small store she worked in when she was sixteen. She doesn't really think she has the grounds to be very choosy right now.

"You know, my cousin, Danny. The bat shit crazy one-" he pauses and waits for Emma to nod, "she got an easy three hundred bucks the other day. There's this new agency that opened up and she got paid to put her name in their data base."

"Why?" Emma asks, completely confused.

"Well, it's a surrogacy agency and I guess it makes no sense for them to be one if they have zero donors." He frowns like even _he's_ not sure of his theory then he shrugs. "Anyway, it's not like they're going to call on her or anything. Or maybe they will. I really don't know. All I know is she got an easy three hundred. Spent it all on shoes, the idiot..."

He then goes on and on about his cousin until they have to go back to work and Emma doesn't think about the conversation again.

...

Until the next week.

She has fifty dollars left and it's just the start of the month.

She can't lie to herself and say they can survive mainly on tips because that's lying to herself. She knows she should learn to budget better, but Henry had a school trip coming and he's never gone to one before.

"It's okay-" he'd said before she even said no, "I can go next time."

But the thing is, he _always_ says that and she has promised herself to do better. So she takes all the money she has and pays for the damn trip and buys him snacks to eat on the way and convinces herself that his beaming smile is enough to take away the worry that between her and poverty, she now has fifty dollars.

Paul is actually surprised when she tells him that she wants to do it.

"It's some quick free cash, right?"

They get people to cover their shift and he drives her, asking if she's sure about a thousand times. He waits, reading some magazine as she goes to get tests done.

They ask about Henry, if she had any complications while having him. She tells them no.

They ask if he has any complications.

"A little trouble breathing when he was younger. But that was because of the cold." She doesn't mention the sleeping in the car and the fact that he had less clothes than any baby in the world. That they didn't live in an actual house till he was four months old.

That's no one's business but hers.

They give her some paper to sign and she's so nervous and so desprate to have this over and done with that she just puts a sign at the bottom and pushes it back.

She practically runs out of the place when she's done.

...

She asks paul to drop her near Henry's school although it's hours before classes end.

"Are you sure?" He asks, like he has been asking almost the whole day.

"Yeah." She nods and gets off the car. Waving goodbye and promising to see him tomorrow.

She walks to the nearest store she can see and buys a packet of Henry's favourite crisps and sits on the bench near his school.

His face absolutely lights up when he sees her.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, all eight year old excitement and disbelief. She laughs and hugs him, lifting him up from the ground.

"Don't you want me here?"

"Of course I do." He rolls his eyes and wraps his little hands around her neck. "But usually you wait for me in front of Moe's."

"Well, today's special. Because today, we're getting you that fairy tale book you've been whinning about."

"Really?" His eyes light up and she just nods. Laughing.

That night, their stomachs full of pizza, laid out, sprawled in the middle of the living room, Emma hmms and nods and listens attentively as Henry tells her one fairy tell after another.

A brand new kind of happiness filling his entire face.

And she lets herself concentrate only on _that._ And she doesn't think of clinics or of papers she signed without reading or of how something gnaws at the back of her mind like a rat trying to break free of a cage.

She doesn't let herself.

...

 **An; I realise how insanely long this is for a prologue. But some basic things needed setting up so...**

 **And I know I took a couple of artistic liberties with the very last part, hopefully it isn't glaring.**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Prologue part 2**_

 _ **...**_

At ten, Regina Mills still doesn't know what she's going to do with her life when she's older.

She's smart and everyone says she's beatiful and she knows she'll amount to _something-_ she just doesn't know _what._

It's all blind ambition at the moment. Kinda like waking up from a dream and knowing you dreamt something but not really being able to remember what. And that's okay, because she's ten and no one _really_ expects her to know exactly what she'll do with the rest of her life at ten.

It's a Thursday and tennis practice ended early today and she's home early because of that. She finds her mother in the living room, having a tea party of two or gossiping, she's not entirely sure. There's tea involved and she and her friend are discussing other people's business whether or not it's any concern of theirs so Regina thinks it could be both.

A gossip tea party.

There's a baby fussing next to the woman and she looks loathe to pick it up. Like it's infringing on her time or something.

"I can do it." Regina offers politely and the woman looks at Cora to make sure it's alright then looks at Regina a few seconds later.

"Would you? _Please?"_ Her entire self is sagging with relief and gratitude and Regina just smiles and places her bag neatly by the couch before taking the infant and moving towards the islolated seats at the corner.

The baby is all brown eyed, curly haired, unbothered innocence. He smells like baby soap and baby oil and baby _everything_. He looks at Regina with wide eyed curiousity and his eyes seem to be endlessly searching her whole face.

She sits still and holds him and watches as he waves a fisted hand hapharzadly around. Making tiny little baby noises that sound both happy and excited at the same time.

She hears his mother saying how he's making her life hell. "I swear I don't even know what sleep is anymore. He's absolutely ruining my life."

And all Regina can think is that those are _lies_. There's no way this tiny bundle of happiness can ruin _anything_.

His tiny fist touches her nose and she makes a face, her stares at her for a second before breaking into a toothless smile and kicking his tiny feet.

Regina laughs.

And right there, still in her tennis clothes and smelling of sweat and holding this tiny human that seems so, so _alive._ Regina knows that no matter what else she'll end up being, no matter what else she does in this world, one day, she'll be a mom.

...

Regina experiences her first real heartbreak at twenty five. It makes all the other heart breaks she's ever experienced, all the times she stayed in her room crying over one boy or another, seem stupid and childish.

It makes any other pain she's ever experienced dim in comparison.

/

She's always been good with lists, it's her thing. When she was younger, Cora would send her to the kitchen to check whatever they didn't have and make a list before the older woman went shopping. She always knew Regina would never miss anything.

By sixteen, she has a short list of what her life is to amount to.

It's short, it's simple, it's precise and most importantly, it's _realistic_.

 _Finish school._

 _Get a great job. (Great Job Regina, nothing less.)_

 _Find a boyfriend. (Preferably a handsome one with ambition)_

 _Make a baby. Make a_ perfect _baby._

 _Be happy._

She writes the list on a leaf of paper from her notebook that her father got her for her twelfth birthday. She only writes important things on it. And it makes sense because this is the most important of them all.

She carries it with her whenever she moves. It's on her dashboard as she drives to college and the day after graduation, still in her green gown and riding from the euphoria of graduating. Top of her class with honors no less. She kneels next to her closet and pulls the little shoe box there, pulling out the various keepsakes until she gets to the list. Old and with parmanent lines from being folded for too long.

She puts a tick next to _finish school_ and smiles.

She tackles the second part of her list not even three months later. It's mostly Cora's doing that she even gets that internship. But it's Regina's effort and hardwork and her ability to _not_ punch anyone who says she's just a beautiful face who has no business in politics, that gets her to the top.

She's the youngest mayor Storybrooke has ever had and as she sits there on her second day of work, she pulls out the drawer and pulls out her list and with her new expensive, tax payers money bought pen, she puts a tick next to; _Get a great job. (Great Job Regina, nothing less.)_

Then she drinks expensive scotch and just rolls around in her chair, marvelling in her success.

The third part is a bit hard. Men are either handsome _or_ ambitious. It's hard to find one who's both.

The handsome ones expect things to just come to them _because_ they're handsome and the ambitious ones mainly worked hard to cover the fact that they didn't luck out in the looks department.

Still, she's nothing if not determined. She waits it out and chooses carefully and she redifines her definition of handsome a little and even learns to stand for mediocre ambition.

But even with her compromising and exceptions they always end up disappointing her. Apparently she's too demanding. Too bossy. She's beautiful but all these dreams and ambitions and what not, is she trying to be a _man?_

Because apparently women are one dimensional creatures who shouldn't want to be more in life than what society deems fit.

"How are we supposed to make a family if you're working all these hours of the day, Regina? You're either going to be a wife or a working class woman. You can't have your cake and eat it."

She stops trying after that.

She's Regina Mills. If she's going to have a goddamned cake she's sure as hell going to eat it.

So she takes the list and crosses off the _Find a boyfriend_ part. It didn't really work out and that's that.

She can still make the other two parts possible.

In her mind, if she makes the fourth part possible, then the fifth will come automatically.

Cora says she's stupid.

"Being a single mother isn't the glamourised walk in the park television makes it out to be, Regina. It's hard and it's tiring and it's _lonely."_

Regina can admit that Cora has authority to say what she's saying. Henry died when Regina was thirteen. Cora never remarried and for the longest time, it was just the two of them. Her mother's smile dimmed and the lines around her eyes became more pronounced.

But the thing is, Cora wanted the whole family thing. She wanted a baby _and_ a husband and when her husband died, half her dream did too. Regina doesn't want a husband. She just wants a baby.

That's all.

"Do what you want Regina." Cora says when it's clear her words won't change Regina's mind.

And she does do what she wants.

She picks the father to be of her child the way people pick their very first car. She makes sure he's perfect in every way because there's no way she's failing her child before it's life has even begun.

Then she tries making the baby.

And she tries and tries and _tries_ until she realises what she's doing is the very definition of insanity and she visits her gyno. If there's something wrong, she wants to know.

There _is_ something wrong.

He tells her in a monotone voice. Like he's reading a map to a place he doesn't really want to go to. The corners of his voice is laced with boredom as he rips Regina's dream word by word.

"I'm afraid you'll never be able to have a baby, Miss Mills. At least not in the traditional way."

Her insides flip within themselves like a rolling penny and something logs itself in her throat and it's making it hard to breathe right. And the now jagged edges of her heart prick at her chest, hot and unrelenting.

And _that's_ when Regina experiences her first real heart break.

...

Of all the people Regina Mills has ever loved, not that there're that many of them, she loved her father the most.

Cora used to say it's because he let her get away with anything. But Regina always knew that wasn't it. She loved him because he understood her. Because he was her father _and_ her best friend.

She loved him for the way he carried her on his neck when she was six because she was determined to hang those glow in the dark stars in her room.

She loved him for staying out with her almost an entire day, teaching her how to ride her bike because she was determined to learn how to do it on that very day.

He taught her how to bake ten different cakes in a span of one month when she was nine because she was determined that they were going to win that father-daughter bake off that was being hosted at school.

Determined, determined, _determined._

"You know what I love about you, princess?"

"No, what?"

"That you never let anything stand in the way of what you want. Never lose that."

 _Those_ words are what get her out of her month old funk after her doctor's visit.

She's had three different ones after the initial one and it's true, she can't have a baby in the traditional sense. And for a month, she lets this knowledge control her every mood.

She's irritable.

She's quick to anger.

She fired the pregnant twenty year old second assistant before feeling bad and rehiring her and giving her a pay raise.

She feels a bone deep sadness. The kind that seems to settle so deep it's almost a part of her now. She places a palm on her flat stomach in the mornings. Standing in front of the mirror and wondering what she did in her past life to deserve this.

Until she sees the photo of her and her father on the day of that bake off. Her eyes have bags under them because they harldy slept the previous night. But she's seated on her father's lap and she's holding a huge trophy with Henry's arms up in the air and her smile is so big she can feel her face hurting just from looking at the photo.

 _"That you never let anything stand in the way of what you want. Never lose that."_

She pulls herself out of it after that. She looks into other options and makes calls and goes to meetings of people who're thinking of adopting. She meets a girl. Fiteen year old, restless eyed and scared out of her mind.

"I just want someone to take it away from me. That's all."

And Regina is more than willing.

She lets the excitement wash over her from that very first meeting. She calls the girl every morning and asks if she's okay and schedules doctor's appointments for her. She goes shopping for baby stuff when the baby is hardly two months old and she knows she overdoes it a little. But she doesn't care.

Three months into the whole thing the girl calls her. Hystrerical and her words choked and drowning in tears. Her boyfriend found out. He's the father of the child, she says. And now he wants it. He wants it and he wants _her_ and he's not taking one without the other.

"I'm so sorry Regina. I'm _so sorry._ " She says over and over again until Regina hangs up.

She drives two hours out of town that very day with a trunk full of baby things and she donates it all to good will.

Then she goes home and refuses, absolutely _refuses_ to cry.

...

She doesn't look at the list for years. She just doesn't let herself.

She goes on with her life and her job and it's not fulfiling but it isn't dissapointing either.

Until she gets a call sometime in January and she frowns to find out it's from some agency she hasn't ever heard of.

They apologise. "Must have gotten your name from our sister agency, "they say. "We're still new and everything's jumbled up."

She accepts the apology easily. Not because she understands, but because it's _January._ She has budgets to make and things to go through and a town to run. She doesn't really have the time to listen to other people's fuck ups.

"But would you be interested?"

"In what?"

So he goes into this long rant about surrogacy and how they've found a great match for her. For a moment, Regina lets herself hope. But the moment is fleeting and quickly crushed. She's not putting herself through that again.

"No thank you."

"Okay. But if you change your mind..."

...

She does change her mind. That very same night no less.

She's in bed in her huge house all alone and suddenly the lonliness hits her like a tornado from nowhere. She remembers the days before that girl called her. Before she was told she's not able to have a baby.

 _Before._

When she still had hope and when the sight of baby clothes and pregnant women didn't make her feel insignificant and ripped off.

She remembers how exciting that hope was. She remembers how real it was that she could almost _taste_ it. And she wants it again.

She's willing to try again.

...

The meeting is set in a public place months later and Regina takes an entire day off work and even buys a new dress for it and refuses to question her own motives.

She sits alone at the very back of the resturant and fiddles with the corner of her napkin with uncharacteristic nervousness.

She's starting to think she's been stood up when a girl with blonde hair that can't seem to decide whether it wants to be in a bun or not rushes in, panting and breathlessly offering apologies.

"I'm so sorry I'm late. The person who was supposed to cover my shift messed me up." She takes a sit right across Regina and drinks the water in front of her like she has just arrived from the Sahara desert, on foot. "Hi." She says when she's done. "I'm Emma Swan."

...

Emma is hard to place.

Which is odd to Regina because she's good at that. She got it from her mother when she was younger. Talking to people while silently judging them and placing them in a certain fitting box and determining whether or not they're worthy of her time.

At first, Regina thought she was all recklessness and proud carelessness with her undecided hair and her non existent manners.

But then she smiled. And complimented Regina's dress. And said she doesn't have a lot but she'd like to cover at least half the bill.

And now Regina just doesn't know.

"You don't have to do that. I'll take care of it."

"Oh I want to." She nods and looks at the spoons and forks like they're foreign objects that might have as well have come from outerspace.

Regina picks only her fork. The wrong one no less, but the easiest one to use and she smiles softly at her. Emma does the same.

"Let's make a deal. I'll cover this one and you'll cover the next one." She offers although neither of them are sure there'll be a next one.

Emma nods after a minute. Trying to hide the evident relief in her eyes. Her blouse is thin, almost see through from constant ironing. Her hair has split ends and the cut looks home done. It's so easy to tell that she _doesn't_ have the money to cover half the bill.

Yet she's still proud enough not to show that to a stranger. Regina can respect that.

...

It's not until they've eaten and had their plates cleared that they talk about what brought them here. Regina Mills is nothing if not well mannered. You just don't talk business in the middle of a meal. You might ruin appetites and it's never a good thing to ruin a perfectly good meal.

(Words of Wisdom from Cora Mills.)

She starts them slow. Asking where Emma lives.

"Just here in the city." She answers evasively. "You?"

"Storybrooke. About two and a half hours from here."

Emma seems to think for a bit then she shakes her head a bit. "Never heard of it."

Regina chuckles. "Not many people have. You said you needed someone to cover your shift?"

"Oh yeah. I'm a waitress. In more than one place actually." She smiles wryly. "And I bartend sometimes. It's not as glamorous as whatever it is you obviously do." She motions to Regina's general direction with her head like that will explain her statement. "But it pays the bills and it keeps my kid fed so it's okay."

"You have a child?" Regina latches to that part of the conversation mostly from interest but also from a need to change the subject.

"Yes." Emma's face softens almost unconsciously and a smile plays at the corner of her lips and it suddenly makes her seem a lot younger. More vulnerable. "Henry. He's- he's the most amazing person in this world."

Regina's heart flutters within itself. "Henry? Your son's name is Henry?"

"Yeah." Emma reaches into her bag excitedly, "he's eight and a little too smart for his own good." She flips through her phone and gets to a picture. "That's him." She holds it up to Regina proudly.

He's all shiny eyed and brown haired. Holding a bowl and looking up at the camera proudly with a smile that comes more from his eyes than his lips. Lights up his whole entire face.

"We took that last night. He made his first bowl of salad." Emma explains pulling the phone away and Regina can practically hear the love dripping from her voice.

And she wants that.

She wants to feel _that_ about another person.

"He's a beautiful boy. You and his father-"

"He's not in the picture." Emma is quick to correct. "It's just me and him."

Regina nods. "Sorry. Didn't mean to make any assumptions."

"It's okay." Emma smiles as if to prove her point as she locks her phone and puts it aside. "So- I'm I the first person you're meeting?"

"Yes, and I'm hoping you'll be my last." She puts it out there. Not looking her in the eye.

Emma suddenly looks a bit uncomfortable. "I don't know. It was never my intention to do this. That's not why I signed up. I didn't even think they'd ever call me."

"But you're _here."_ Regina points out. Emma's here and she's showing her pictures of her son and answering Regina's questions so it must mean _something._

"Yeah. And you're really nice but-"

"Just think about it. You don't have to make your decision right now. Take your time. I can wait."

The blonde nods.

...

She offers to drive her because Emma doesn't have a car and she's rushing to pick her son.

"I don't want to be a bother."

"You're not being a bother. I'm offering. Come on, Miss Swan. Get in the car."

The drive to her son's school is short and silent and when they get there the children have already been let out.

A tiny person. Henry, runs to Emma when he sees her like he hasn't seen her in a long time. His arms are in the air as he tries not to drop his bookbag as it keeps moving in beat with his running.

"Momma!"

"Hey buddy." She kneels down and he falls right into her arms. "How was school?" She asks, lifting him as they walk towards the entrance.

"Great. We painted today. Mrs. Bean said mine was the _bestest_."

"It was?" She asks with faux shock.

He nods, bitting his lip in an obvious effort of hide a smile.

Then he frowns a bit and looks at Regina. "Momma," he says in a voice Regina assumes he _thinks_ is a whisper. "There's a pretty lady following us."

Emma turns back and laughs before placing him down. "This is a friend of mine, baby. Come on, introduce yourself."

He looks up at Emma, then at Regina, then at Emma who nods at him.

Then he stands a bit taller. "Hello." Suddenly his voice is deeper and Regina has to try so hard not to smile. "My name is Henry Swan."

She nods and takes the tiny hand in hers. Shaking it like she would an adult. "Regina Mills. Nice to meet you." She tries her best not to treat him like a child and it obviously makes him happy because he turns to his mother and finally cracks into a smile.

"Even her _name_ is pretty momma."

Emma laughs and lifts him up again. Teasing him and making him bury his now red face in her neck.

And something in Regina just clicks looking at them and she knows, she just _knows_ this woman will be the mother of her child.

No matter what she has to do to conveince her.

...

 _ **An; another too long for a prologue part. Oh well. The chapters are even longer and I don't know if I should maybe cut them or..idk.**_

 _ **Anyway. Thank you for reading. (And especially for reviewing) Even the ones who don't watch Once but read anyway.**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Prologue Part 3 (Final)**_

 _ **...**_

The first time Henry falls sick, Emma feels her sanity slip like warm oil through wide open fingers.

He's six months old. He only has hair in the middle of his head like it's been patched there and he has just discovered mobility. Emma thinks he'll never be still again. He crawls everywhere like he's on some sort of race only he's aware of and he seems to believe everything his hand touches belongs in his mouth.

They're in between houses right now. Got thrown out of their previous one because after that first time when she was moving in, Emma never paid rent again. She kept promising she would, she would, she _would._

Then one day she just comes home to find her things in the hallway and the door locked.

She stays inside the bug for nearly an hour while alternating between thinking and grabbing things from Henry's hand before they reach his mouth.

Finally, she calls Sandy. A rebel of a girl with red streaks in her hair and more piercings than bare skin. She'd met her in the homeless shelter months ago and somehow they kept in touch.

"It'll only be for a while. A little while." Emma promises before Sandy sighs and tells her that okay, she and Henry can come over but she better not be planning on staying for a long time.

Sandy's apartment is more of a place where junkies meet than a house.

It looks unlived in. Like people had a party then just drove away without cleaning up. Although clearly that's _not_ the case. It's too bright inside and the smell of pot is almost chocking. There's a girl by the window who's doing a line of coke, her eyes trained vaguely at Emma like she can see her but not really. "Hey, is that a baby?" And Emma holds Henry close to her. Covering him with both arms like they can act as an invisibility cloak.

For a moment, she wanted to tell Sandy, no thanks. That she'd rather bare the homeless shelter- having to walk out everytime Henry cries only to come back and find someone has stolen their spot. She'd bare the homeless shelter if it meant she didn't have to put up with _this._

But then Sandy motions for her to follow, her eyes red and blurry and a stick of _something_ dangling at the sides of her mouth in a way that Emma would have considered _cool_ once.

Emma steps over cans and cans and dropped food. Someof it looks stale. Like it fell there _days_ ago and no one bothered cleaning. And she shakes Henry softly in her arms not because he's up, but because she doesn't want him to wake up and view this.

"No one comes in here." Sandy opens a door to a dimly lit room. All Emma can see is a small bed and a tiny chair by the corner. "You and the kid can have it till you leave."

She moves in that night. Carrying some of her things from the car into the room.

It takes her more trips than neccesary because although some of them offer, Emma absolutely refuses to leave Henry with _any_ of them. So she carries her bags with one hand, and Henry with the other up and down that flight of stairs. And it takes her an hour more than it would have. And her arm aches when she's done.

But that's okay.

/

Henry's an easy child.

He's probably the easiest child to have ever existed, Emma thinks.

He rarely cries unless something's _really_ bothering him. (He's hungry. He needs to be changed. He's sleepy) And once Emma has it taken care of, he settles down immidiately.

It makes it easier for her to take him with her to work.

She sits him in his baby seat that she bought second hand from some thrift store and makes faces at him as she cleans, making him giggle and sometimes clap his hands and spit out his pacifier in delighted baby laughter.

Sometimes, Henry feels like the _only_ thing Emma has ever done right in her life.

/

They're lying on one of the hotel beds where Emma has just finished cleaning. He's on her chest, calmly resting as she plays with his hair softly when the first hiccup like sound comes. She thinks maybe he needs water so she gets up to give him some when the second one comes. Then another and another until she realises he's not hiccuping, he's gasping for breath.

"Henry, baby- what's wrong?" She asks like he can understand her and stop to answer. " _Henry."_ She shakes him. Panic siezing her from the very core so hard it actually _hurts._

She turns him around and hits his back. He's light like a doll in her arms. And she hits him harder and hopes, actually _hopes_ that there's something stuck in his throat and she'll just hit it out of him. Then he'll be better and he'll be babbling and clapping and just being _him._

But the more she hits, the more he chokes, and he chokes and chokes and _chokes_ until she can't take it anymore.

She doesn't know how she gets off that bed and out of that room, the door almost banging itself out it's hinges behind her so hard she can hear the echo all around the empty hall. Her feet are moving by their own accord. Fast steps, faster steps, _running._ Her heart is pounding sickly somewhere in her throat, so hard she hears it in her ears.

(Her heart. The door. Henry _choking_ )

She won't let herself look at him. She won't let herself do anything other than get to the bug and drive and drive until she gets somewhere where they can make him _better._

The snow cracks noisily under her shoes as she runs again towards the hospital door. She hands him to the firs person she sees in white clothes.

He's tiny and a sickly grey colour and he hardly looks like her Henry anymore. Looking at him makes her stomach churn and she feels like someone has stuck something way too big inside her and she's coming apart at the seams.

"Make him better. _Please."_ Is all she says.

/

They can't treat him.

No. They _won't_ treat him.

Emma doesn't have insurance and it's against hospital policy and they're _so so_ sorry but there's just nothing they can do.

"I- I have money." Her voice comes out high and cutting, the sylables too jumbled and almost incoherent with tears and panic. Her trembling hands reach into her jacket and she pulls out old wrinkled notes. Some of them fall and she scrambles to pick them up, throwing them all on the counter. "You can have it all."

"Miss."

"Please." She goes on, not even caring to listen to what the woman has to say. She reaches into her pockets again and pulls out a sad number of coins. They clink all over the empty hospital lobby as she throws them on the counter. "This is all I have. Have it. _All_ of it. Just please, _please_ make him better."

The woman looks at her with wide eyed sympathy before making a call. It's long minutes of waiting as Emma paces and sits and bobs her feet and paces some more. Finally, they say they're going to treat him.

"But you have to bring the rest of the money."

She nods too hard and too long and there's gratefulness pouring from every part of her.

She doesn't think she's ever been more thankful to another human being as much as she is to this woman right now.

/

She drives back to the apartment and takes the money she's been saving up for the apartment.

She takes apart her things and anything that is worth _anything,_ she sells. She even goes as far as selling the clothes from her very back.

"Come on, you've been drooling over this jacket for _weeks_." She stretches her red leather jacket to the junkie the way a kidnapper would stretch out candy to an unsuspecting child. "You won't find another one like it anywhere else."

"Your price is shit though." He drawls in his croaky voice.

"Fuck you, I'm giving you a _great_ deal here. Take it or leave it."

He ends up taking it for ten dollars less and she drives back to the hospital in the biting cold. Her fingers are blue and her hands are trembling by the time she gets there and her feet feel like they're made of lead. But she takes determined steps to the counter and pours all of the money on it.

"That's all I got."

She spits it out like a dare. Like she's just _waiting_ for someone to try telling her she didn't do enough.

It's not enough for them to keep Henry throughout the night. But he's out of danger right now and if she just follows the given instructions and gives him his medicine, he'll be fine.

/

She doesn't sleep that night.

Her eyes hurt from crying too much, her bones are pricked with exhaustion and her heart in still out of sync from panicking too much. And she knows it would do her good to sleep.

But she doesn't.

She blocks out the music coming from outside the door and sounds of people yelling in that way that they do when they're not really in tune with themselves. She blocks everything out and just holds her son close in her arms.

He's tiny and fragile and he reminds her of the very first time she ever saw him. This little person who made up her entire world without even being aware of it. She memorizes every single tiny detail about him. Counting and recounting his fingers and his toes. She places her ear next to his nose and feels the way his breaths come out like gentle breeze and it's calming and it's reassuring and it's _real._

Her hand stays on his little chest. Looking at the way it goes up and down and up again. Counting every single heartbeat like a child would a shooting star. And it's fast paced rythm is all she hears.

...

Emma comes home a few minutes before four. Her feet ache something awful from standing almost the entire day and her back ache makes her recall the days when she was carrying a human being inside of her.

She's been thinking of her bed for the past god knows how many hours. She's glad, really, she's _so_ glad that she got this job because it means tips and tips mean food and food means a happy Henry and a well clothed Henry and she can save up for rent. But fuck it if it doesn't exhaust the living shit out of her.

Working three jobs is no joke.

She finds all the lights in the house still on and she rolls her eyes. Too tired to even be mad right now that Paul, who takes care of Henry till three before he has to go to work himself, always forgets to switch them off no matter how many times Emma tells him to.

She moves to switch it off before stopping in her tracks when she sees a small figure in spongebob pyjamas lying on the couch. His body folded within itself like a human coma, his little hand clutching his stomach even in his sleep.

She drops her bag, taking quick strides towards the couch and kneeling right in front of him. Her hand, almost on instict, go to his forehead. Henry's not the kind to sleep on the couch. He likes things to be as they should be and couches are _not_ for sleeping on. That he's here, and judging by the way he's sleeping, doesn't mean good things for Emma.

"Fuck." She hisses, her chest constricting uncomfortably inside her. Making an awful weight fall at the pit of her stomach and she sits on her knees as she smooths his hair from his little face. Watching as green eyes flutter open. Lazy and still laced with sleep.

He looks unfocused for a moment as he blinks at her. Then, "momma?" It comes out like a question. Like he's not sure what she's doing here. What _he's_ doing here.

"Hey buddy."

"I don't feel so good." It's said in a whispered voice. As if speaking it too loud will make it more real than it already is.

Emma feels her eyes sting with tears but she forces them back. "Where does it hurt, baby?"

"I don't know." He says before slipping from her chair to her waiting arms. She wraps her arms around him, her hands making their way to his stomach and she knows she might be delusional. She might be letting her panic and memories of time past cloud her judgement, but she _swears_ he's gotten even warmer in the past few minutes.

His tiny arms wrap themselves around her neck, vine tight. Wordlessly asking her to make it better.

And even as she rubs his stomach in an effort to ease even a little bit of his pain, her mind is already making calculations. She hardly has enough for a taxi cab to and from the hospital. She doesn't even know where she'll get one that'll come to this area at this time of the night.

But it's not like they can walk to the hospital so she needs _something._

"Hey," she pulls back a little to look into his face, her voice gentle and soft, "I need to run to Grey's for a few seconds, okay?"

He nods.

"Okay. Just sit here," she places him on the couch, "and I'll be back before you know it."

"Okay." He answers before closing his eyes.

/

Grey's shirtless and hairy and really, _really_ not happy to see her.

"The fuck Swan. It's like four in the fucking morning."

"I need your car." She says, short and clear. Completely ignoring his anger because it's the least of her concerns right now.

"Huh?" He asks like she's crazy.

"Your car Grey. I need it."

"Why the fuck do you think I'd just give you my _car?"_

"Henry's-" she can't say sick, she won't let herself. "Henry's not feeling well and I need to get him to hospital."

He eyes her for a moment before frowning to hide the fact that his stance has softened. "What happened to your yellow piece of shit?"

"Non of your business. Are you giving me your car or not?" She's being a beggar _and_ a chooser which isn't wise. But her son is alone, in _pain_ , and she doesn't have the patience for questions right now.

He grumbles before reaching in and taking the keys then placing them in her palm. "I swear if you so much as put as scratch on it-"

"I won't. Thanks for this." She says sincerely before starting to walk away. Stopping only when she hears him call her name.

"Tell the little man I hope he feels better soon."

/

She carries Henry in her arms all the way to Gery's car even though he says he can walk on his own.

She straps him in and checks his temperature twice before getting in the car and just sitting there.

She _knows_ what she has to do. She has known since a few minutes ago when she realised she has eighty six dollars to her name and she can't ask anything more of Paul than she already has because one, she doesn't want to and two, he couldn't help her if he wanted.

She and him are on the very same boat.

Her finger hovers over the number and she feels it trembling, indisicive over whether or not to move forward with this. She has had all of _one_ conversations with the woman. And yes, they did exchange numbers and she said Emma can call her anytime. But she's sure she didn't mean to asks for favours.

Henry's grumble and his hand clutching his stomach as he folds himself on the seat as if making himself smaller will make the pain less makes the decision for her.

"Hello?" A groggy, sleep laced voice answers after three rings.

"Uh- hi..Regina. It's Emma."

"Miss Swan?" She sounds more alert now and Emma bites her lip, her hand going to Henry's stomach.

"Yeah. I know it's late, or early but I-I need your help."

...

She and Henry sit on the uncomfortable plastic seats. Well, _she_ sits on them and Henry sits on her lap alternating between making pained noises and trying to sleep.

She doesn't even have enough money to have him _seen to._ Starting fee is ninety five dollars, nothing less. Her eighty whatever dollars sit uselessly in her pockets and she wishes she could take them and shove them somewhere right after ripping them to pieces.

What's their use if they can't even get her son fucking seen to?

"Are they going to give me medicine soon?" Henry asks, his voice pinched and tired.

"Yeah baby. We're just waiting for someone."

He nods and places his head on her chest. Swinging his socks clad legs to and fro.

Emma is still lost in her head when she feels him perk up and almost jump from her lap. "Look momma, it's the pretty lady."

And Emma's eyes snap to the door where Regina is walking in. Looking more put together than anyone else Emma has ever known, even at four fucking am in the morning. Her hair perfectly coiffed, her clothes pristine, and air of authority sorrounding her so effortlessly it's hard to be anything but _awed._

And never, _ever_ in her entire life has Emma been so bloody relieved just from _seeing_ someone.

/

She gets them coffee as they wait for Henry's tests to be completed, doctor's request. She stands in front of the annoyingly noisy machine and plays with her toes inside her foot, scrapping at the top where it's coming undone. Her fingers are curling and uncurling in her pocket around the wrapping of the candy she got Henry last Teusday and forgot to throw away.

She's doing everything she can to avoid looking at the woman sitting in the chair a few paces away from her. Typing on her phone.

A sort of embarrasment that curls itself around her consciousness and ebbs into her very person settles within her and she knows she'll be feeling the sting of it for years to come.

She shouldn't have called her.

They _hardly_ know each other.

But it took her mere minutes to get a doctor to see Henry and Emma doesn't know how to feel bad about _that._

She's pulled out her mind when she notices the coffee cups are full and now she has nowhere to hide. She has to face this.

"Hey." She says to call her attention and brown eyes look up at her. She offers the coffee with a smile that she hopes looks more real than it feels. "I thought you could use some."

"Thank you." Regina breathes out. Taking the coffee and holding it between her palms for a moment.

Emma sits opposite her. Leaving one seat between for no other reason other than she does.

"I'm sorry." It comes out like it's been settling at the tip of her tongue, waiting to come out.

Regina frowns at her the way Henry does when he doesn't understand what she's trying to tell him. "It's not your fault the coffee's bad, Miss Swan."

"I didn't mean the coffee, although I am sorry for that too." She chuckles a bit. More nerves than mirth. "I meant-for calling and burdening you with all this when it's not your problem. I'm really sorry."

"I'm not." Regina says with a shrug. "And you shouldn't be either. I'm _glad_ to help. Besides," she leans back on her chair and smirks at Emma, "anyone who thinks I'm pretty is someone deserving of everything on earth."

"Anyone who _doesn't_ think you're pretty is blind." Emma blurts out without thinking then blinks when her words finally catch up with her brain. Regina's smirk grows into something resembling a grin. Eyebrow arched.

Emma clears her throat and drinks her shit coffee.

Silence stretches between them, too long to be anything but uncomfortable and Emma doesn't like it. "I'll pay you."

"Sorry, what?"

"For this," she motions towards the hospital like that will explain everything. "I don't know when, but I'll pay you back. Every last penny."

"You don't-"

"I want to." She says with a sure nod. Owing people isn't something she likes. She might not have much, but she has her pride and her dignity and she'd rather not lose them.

If she could, she'd give her the eighty what the hell ever dollars she has on her right now. But it's all mangled up, dirty notes and they're tips from drunk men who's eyes never made it all the way to her face. She'd feel more embarassed than anything giving them to this woman. Even her money isn't worthy of her.

Regina looks at her for a moment before nodding, "okay." It sounds like it's more for the benefit of Emma's pride than because she actually believes Emma will return the money.

Still, Emma appreciates it.

...

Henry who was carried in Emma's arms into the hospital and Henry who walks out are two _very_ different people.

He's all a million words a minute and skipping steps now. Not even caring that he doesn't have shoes on.

"And he put a needle in me, and I didn't even _cry."_ He announces to them for the hundreth time, being sure to show them the little index finger where the needle went in. Holding it up like a trophy to brag about. "He said I'm the bravest." He finishes his sentence with a happy little sigh. Looking at his pricked finger.

"That's because you are." Emma ruffles his hair. A little ashamed that she panicked so much over something so little. But more glad than anything that he's okay.

"Yeah." He nods then looks at Regina who's smiling at him. "Have _you_ ever had a needle put in you?"

"Fortunately not."

"Oh." He thinks for a little while before smiling. "That's okay. I can teach you how to be brave when they do it."

"Really? That's so nice of you."

"Momma says always to be nice to pretty ladies." He says with a nod of his little head.

" _Henry_."

"But you _did_ , momma." He says indignantly. A little offended that Emma would try making him out to be a liar. In front of company no less.

"Come on." Emma lifts him up. Giving Regina, who's smiling openly now, an apologetic smile. "Let's get you home."

"Will you come?" Henry asks over Emma's shoulders. "Will you come to our place so I can teach you how to be brave for needles? I'll show you my fairy tale book too. It's really big and has _lots_ of stories."

"I don't know, honey. It's more of your mother's decision than mine."

"Can she come momma?" Henry asks without missing a beat. "Can she?"

"Henry, Regina has things to do. I'm sure she'll be busy and-"

"She didn't say _that."_ Henry scowls at her like he does when she tries treating him like a mindless child. His eyes almost turning to slits in an effort to look intimidating.

Emma sighs and turns to Regina. She has already let this woman in more than she intended to and that's so unlike her. It's been just her and Henry for years. It's a small, easily managable world. It works for her. Letting people in means giving people a chance to leave and she never wants Henry to go through that.

But apparently, that decision isn't hers to make tonight.

"Regina-" she starts slowly.

"Miss Swan." Regina's hands are clasped in front of her. Her mouth twitching with a smile she's clearly trying to supress.

"Would you like to come to our place and-"

"Learn how to be brave for needles and read fairy tale books." Henry chimes in.

Emma sighs. "Yes. What he said."

Regina chuckles a bit. "I'd love to."

"Yes!" Henry claps his hands. "See momma, not busy at all."

Emma just rolls her eyes and tries not to smile at this whole situation. "I'll send you my adress." She says, recalling that Regina didn't drive them home last time.

"You do that."

"I will."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Regina smiles again. Her eyes shining bright with amusement and mirth.

"Have a good day Regina." She says finally. Breaking their staring-smiling- contest.

"You too, Miss Swan."

Henry yells goodnight at her before Emma closes his door, calling her pretty lady and making her laugh. She calls him'brave boy' in return and the smile Henry gives because of it makes Emma think she owes Regina much more than just money.

...

Henry sits on the counter later that morning. His eyes free of any sleep which is a little surprising given the fact that they slept for less than four hours this morning. He says he feels much, _much_ better but Emma still won't let him out of her sight for a moment.

She even sneaked into his room a few minutes after she'd put him in bed this morning and placed her hand on his chest like she did when he was little and let the sound of his heartbeats calm her.

"Did I get it?" She asks, her neck titled to the side in an awkward position, her eyes closed to keep dust from falling into her eyes.

"No, move the stick a little."

She moves it, "now?"

"No. Move it the other way."

She does as she's told and seconds later Henry claps his hands and she knows they've got it.

And by _it_ I mean the cobweb that Emma has been saying she'll get rid of for the longest time but never had the right incentive. Turns out having your son make a woman who looks like elegance personified come to your place is incetive enough.

"I don't get why we're cleaning so much." Henry states as she gets off the stool.

"We're having a guest. People clean when guests come to visit them, buddy."

"You don't clean when Paulie comes visiting."

"Because Paulie isn't a guest."

"Is too. He doesn't live here so when he comes visiting, that makes him a guest. And you don't clean walls for _him."_

She looks at him, pretending to be angry but her not being able to because he's here. Seated on the counter and teasing her, when just a few hours ago he was making her blood run too fast and her heart beat too slow and she thought she'd die from panic. And in a really big way, she has Regina to thank for that. They wouldn't have treated him without her money. And Emma figures cleaning walls so she can make her dip shit apartment look even a _little_ presentable is the least she can do.

"Maybe you only clean for pretty ladies."

Henry finally states with a sure tone. Like he has just discovered the secret to immortality and Emma supresses her smile and pretends to glare at him. "One more word out of you and no crips for a _week_."

He gasps. Opening his mouth to say something but then Emma arches a brow, daring him, and he shuts it closes. She smiles. "Good choice. Now, I have to go get ready, I want you to just sit there and maybe read a book or something, I won't be long."

He nods wordlessly.

She kisses his head before rushing to the bathroom.

...

Henry's voice tactlessly announcing Regina's arrival makes her rush back to the living room minutes later. Her hand smoothing down her clothes and her eyes searching the whole house just to make sure she hasn't left anything out that could embarass her more than the house itself will.

"She's here, momma." He says, looking right out the window with that shamelessness that only children can pull off.

"I heard you the first four times, now come on, lets go let her in."

He jumps off the seat, taking her hand, bouncing with excitement. "You look really pretty momma."

"Thank you."

"You never look _this_ pretty for Paulie."

" _Henry_."

He giggles all the way down the down the stairs.

...

Emma is nervous. Looking at her house right now, it has never seemed smaller, she sees all it's fault. That weirdly shaped brown patch on the ceiling. The broken window pane. Her second hand couch, and second hand coffee table and second hand _everything._ Her carpet with holes in it.

Everything just seems less than, _unworthy._

 _"_ So this is it. It's not much, but it's home." Her voice sound defensive even without her consent. Hard around the edges and a daring tone to it.

Regina, on who's arms Henry jumped from the moment she saw him and hasn't been put down yet. Looks around the house. She doesn't seem like she's judging. But Emma has worked around enough rich people to know that they might not _seem_ like they're judging you, but they are.

"I helped momma choose the couch." It's Henry's voice that breaks the silence. "It squeaks when someone sits on it too hard. Momma says it's because it's old, but Paulie says it's because it has character."

Regina laughs and there's nothing pretentious about it. "What do you think?"

"I think Paulie's right."

Henry says with a sure voice and just like that, the tensions gone.

...

Henry talks and talks and _talks._ He tells Regina about his school about the day he and Emma went to buy his fairy tale book. He reads the stories to her, sometimes twice. And every time Emma says maybe Regina might be tired, the two brunette's glare at her and she lets them be.

She leaves them for a while to go get lunch and when she comes back, they've put the coffee table on the couch and Henry's busy bringing blankets from the bedroom as Regina makes _something._

"It's a fort." She answers Emma's unasked question. And it looks so- _odd,_ her, in her probably designer clothes, bare foot and the sleeves to her blouse rolled up to her elbow, on her knees in Emma's living room. Making forts out of second hand blankets.

But at the same time, it looks like she wouldn't rather be anywhere else. Emma has never seen someone look so happy doing something so mundane as biulding a _fort._

"We're biulding a fort, momma." Henry's voice says, muffled in all the blankets he's carrying.

"Yeah, Regina's told me."

"Can we eat in it?" He asks, dropping all the blankets down and fixing her with his pleading look that never fails to make her cave. She looks between him and Regina and sighs.

"Sure. Why not."

/

They have lunch in the fort which is stuffy as hell but Henry's eyes shine with pride because of it so Emma just bites her lip and doesn't say anything.

"I hope you like Mexican food." She'd said when serving.

"Why? Because I'm Hispanic?"

And Emma eyes had widened. An apology mixed with an explanation that _no_ that's not what she meant at all already forming in her head. But then she'd looked at Regina and her lips were stretching into a smile and her eyes were shining at Emma with laughter and Emma, without thinking, found herself smacking her shoulder.

"Don't _do_ that. You scared me, I actually thought I'd offended you."

Regina had laughed and offered an apology which would have sounded more real if she wasn't taking a complimentary high five from Henry.

Emma leaves the fort halfway through their meal to take a call from Paul who apparently just landed a wedding gig for two, it's good money if she's interested.

"It's my weekend with Henry." She informs him. Adding that he was just sick and she'd like to spend sometime with him.

"It's good money Swan. Besides, it's only for a few hours then you can go back to the little guy."

She only has to think about it for a few seconds before saying yes. Paul squeals and tells her he'll send her the details later. "It's somewhere in Maine."

Henry isn't happy when he hears the news. Especially when she tells him he'll have to stay with Grey for a few hours.

"Grey smokes all the time momma. It's gross."

"I can take care of him." Regina says, saving Emma from trying to convince Henry that staying with Grey isn't so bad.

"Oh, I- I couldn't ask you to do that."

"You're not asking, I'm _offering._ It'll be fun. Besides, someone," she gives Henry a pointed look, " _still_ hasn't given me the secret to bravery."

"Yes momma." Henry's voice is already lilting with excitement. " _Please_." He pouts at her and she looks between him and Regina, again their eyes making it hard to say no. Henry's _Henry._ She finds it hard to say no to him because, although some part of her refuses to admit it, she's guilty as hell for a lot of things where Henry is concerned.

And Regina, well, Regina's the first person in as long as Emma can remember who's ever just been genuinely nice to her and she feels indebted to her somehow.

She sighs. "I'll think about it."

Henry squeals and claps then leans conspiratorily towards Regina. "That's definitely a yes." He whispers a little too loud.

/

Henry is a ball of excitement the whole way to Regina's the next day and Emma alternates between telling Paul that _no_ she won't be late, and making sure he doesn't stick his head out of the window.

The two of them hardly go anywhere that's not the store, his school or Emma's job and his excitement makes her chest feel heavy and weighed down.

(The list of the various ways she's failing him just grows longer and longer)

She checks the adress Regina sent her three times when the cab finally drops them off and for moment, she wants to turn back and leave. Paul said she's not allowed to bring Henry to the wedding cause it's a no kid kinda shindig but Emma has a lifetime of experience of sneaking Henry into work.

She's done it from when he was mere months old. it wouldn't hurt her to do it one more time.

Her stomach feels somewhere lower than it should be. She's seen Regina, three times now. The woman looks, speaks, smells, practically _oozes_ money. Emma _knows_ that. She was expecting that. But this- this is something else all together.

Emma could fit all the places she's ever lived inside here two times over and _still_ have space left. The sprawling lawn and the sidewalk lined with flowers (even _they_ look expensive) is something Emma has only ever seen in movies and in those magazines they put by the bedside in the hotel she worked in when Henry was younger.

She holds Henry's hand tighter in hers. Afraid to let him go lest he runs away. It'd probably take her days to find him here.

"Come on, momma. He pulls her forward, his little hand almost slipping out of hers in his haste. "It's rude to keep people waiting."

And almost right after he says that, the front door swings open and Regina stands there. In her grey dress, looking more like she's going to a dinner party than someone's who's just waiting to baby sit an eight year old.

Henry's hands slip from Emma's hands as he runs to her, throwing his arms around her neck as she kneels down to scoop him up. "Your place is _humongous."_ He says, his voice thick with childlike wonder. "That means really big." He explains to a smiling Regina.

"Good to know." She nods as laughter titters at the edge of her voice. "Hello Miss Swan."

"Hi." She waves a little before she realises what she's doing and hastily puts her hands in her pockets. "uh, he has a change of clothes in the bag he's carrying. Just in case."

"Okay." Regina nods.

Emma nods for no other reason other than she wants to do something else other than feel intimidated by all _this._ "I should go." She says finally.

"Right this moment? I thought maybe you'll stay a while."

"Nah," she bounces at the soles of her feet, hating how nervous she feels. "I don't want to be late for work. I'll be back for him in a few hours. Be good for Regina, okay buddy?"

He nods.

She leans in to kiss him. Smelling Regina's perfume as she does so.

"Uh." She pulls away hastily. "You guys have fun."

Then she rushes away, Henry and Regina waving at her until she's out of sight.

...

She's absent minded and restless and so half in half out through out the job that Paul scolds her.

In his defense, he puts up with her until she spills wine on a guest.

"Fuck, Swan. At this rate no one will ever hire us for _anything_ ever again."

"Sorry." She apologises half heartedly. Her mind's on Henry and what he's doing and if he likes it. If the little taste of something good, something _great_ for once in his life is going to make him resent her for not giving him anything more than mediocre.

Paul sighs. "Just- just try not to fuck up anymore."

She nods. And she does try. She keeps her mind on the job until the moment she waves to Paul at the end of it all and she starts walking torwards the bus station, heading back to Regina's.

The nervousness festers like a rolling ball of cotton and by the time she's knocking on the door, it's lodged on her throat, choking and uncomfortbale.

There's a bit of noise coming from inside before the door opens and Regina, with a patch of flour on her hair, opens the door, she looks the way peopl do when they're just from laughing _really_ hard. Breathless and genuinely happy. "Miss Swan." It's more of a breathed out couple of words than Emma's name. "You're early." She points out while opening her door wider.

if the outside was intimidating, then the inside is _wow._

It makes her remember their first apartment. Not that it looks anything even close to _remotely_ resembling that cockroach infested excuse of an apartment. It's just- she remembers the _feeling._ Standing in the middle of that empty house, Henry on her hip. Looking around and feeling so proud because she'd just paid rent for the first time.

" _It's all uphill from here, baby. Next, I'll find us a place with running water. And maybe stairs, then after that one with a lawn, and it'll just be up, up, up."_

They had twirled around and listened to Billy and she'd actually believed every single thing she'd said to Henry i that moment.

But looking at this house now, with the swirling stairs she promised to give to Henry, she remembers how obliviously _stupid_ she was. She could work all her life, she could save every single thing she ever earns down to the _cents_ and she still wouldn't be able to give Henry anything even close to this.

She can do her best. Then better that and she'll never be able to give him all she promised him. What he deserves. She can't even take two damn days off work to be with him after he's been sick because she has to work to put a roof over his head and food on the table.

And it makes her feel small and insgnificant and sick to her very stomach.

"Miss Swan? Are you okay?" She has to blink to bring herself back to the present. She forces her smile, blinking away the sting of tears.

"I'm fine. Is Henry ready? We should get going, it's a long way back."

"He went to the bathroom," she vaguley points up the stairs, "should be back soon."

She nods. An uncomfortable, _awkward_ silence wedges between them until Regina asks if she wants to maybe come in. Sit down, have some brownies. She and Henry baked some, she says.

"No thanks. I'll just wait for him here." She doesn't need anything more being slapped on her face by this house. She has taken all she can take.

"I'll pack some to take with you then. Excuse me for a moment."

She lets her eyes roam around the parts of the house she can see, for a moment. It looks like something out of a magazine page. Even the s _tillness_ of it. There're no pictures in sight. Nothing to even show that someone lives here. Everything is where it should be and if it wasn't for Henry's bag that's somewhere on the carpet, Emma would think this is a show house.

And she wonders how someone who's as warm as Regina is could have such a _cold_ home. She wonders how it would be like, if a kid lived here. Would there be toys all over the living room, little shoes somewhere. Framed pictures of it doing mundane things like taking a bath all around. Regina looks like the kind of person to immortalise every moment.

Something in Emma's heart feels bad that she might never get to do that. And something else asks her _why?_ Why she's being dumb. This is her chance. This is probably her _only_ chance. She has a way to give Henry half the life he deserves while doing something great for someone who's been nothing but nice to her since they met.

"Okay, this is-"

"I'll do it." It comes out before she has the chance to second guess herself. Regina stops in her tracks, her eyes confused for a moment before Emma nods again, her voice a little sure this time. "I'll do it."

Regina's eyes widen with reluctance happiness- like she _wants_ to be happy, but won't let herself in case she's misinterpreting the situation- inally catching up with what Emma's saying.

Emma lets her face consciously soften and she smiles a bit. "I'll carry your baby for you."

...

 _ **An; This was too long, I know. But, that's the end of the prologues, we've gotten to the actual story I want to tell now.**_

 _ **The narrative will get more detailed from now on because I'll be writing events rather than decisions (which is what I've been doing so far.)**_

 _ **The backstories are important, to explain why the characters do what they do. So I hope no one minds those.**_

 _ **Thanks for reading. And reveiwing.**_


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